


Absolutely Normal

by adamance



Series: Season 10 Codas [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode 10.05, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:03:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2606129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamance/pseuds/adamance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not perfection, but it’s their version of normal, and Dean’s not so fucked up that he won’t take it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolutely Normal

He meant what he said about not needing a symbol to remind him how he feels about Sam, but Sam’s face as he hangs up the amulet in the Impala is worth the effort.

“Dean?” Sam says after a few miles. He hasn’t stopped smiling that small smile of his, and Dean can’t get enough of it. 

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“You mind if we stop at a motel tonight?”

Dean glances at him. Before this case, the plan had been to drive back home to the bunker. But now, Dean doesn’t need to ask Sam why he wants to stop. He pulls off the highway at the first tacky neon motel sign they come across.

 

*

 

Later, he lies on his back, sticky and sated, arm around Sam’s shoulders, nothing against his skin except the starched, crumpled motel room sheets and his brother’s skin. The Impala’s parked right outside their room, its shiny black surface reflecting the lights outside, and if Dean squints, he can even make out the outline of the amulet hanging there. Sam sighs, sounding as sleepy and satisfied as Dean feels, and turns into Dean’s body, his hand on Dean’s chest, his thumb tracing patterns into the hollow of Dean’s throat, his hair tickling Dean’s nose. 

It’s not perfection, but it’s their version of normal, and Dean’s not so fucked up that he won’t take it.

“Dean?”

“Mm?”

“What would Sam and Dean be? Dee-am? Sean? Dam?”

“I told you,” Dean says with a growl, “to shut your face about that stuff.” He slides his hand down Sam’s back and against his ribs, tickling at a particularly sensitive spot, and Sam honest-to-god squeals and tries to get away, laughing like Dean hasn’t heard him laugh in a very long time. They roll around on the king-sized bed with its sweaty sheets and its combined smell of them, and come to a stop with Sam on top of Dean, his hair falling like a curtain around their faces, panting and grinning like he’s sixteen again and Dean is his whole world.

“Sammy,” Dean says, slipping his fingers into soft, silky hair and lifting his head for a kiss. 

Sam’s hand slides under his neck for support. “Dean,” he says into Dean’s mouth. “Dean.”

Those are really the only two words they’ll ever need.


End file.
